


Letters

by Senshi



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 20:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3502526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senshi/pseuds/Senshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Wallace writes, and Steven wishes he didn't. But, then again, that's a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters

Steven had always been the impatient type, and no one knew this better than Wallace. Every twitch of the man’s foot, every tap of his ringed fingers on tabletops, and every darting glance of those steel-blue eyes made clear his agitation, his restlessness, his relentless spirit: that inability to resist the calling of whatever currents his mind was drifting along. Steven spoke with a practiced ease, but his words were never well-chosen. It was more or less his confident tone of voice, sleek looks, and habit of smiling too much that made him easy to talk to. He was not the precise speaker that Wallace was. Meticulous speech wore Steven out, and he preferred the speed and spontaneity of colloquialism to the tiresome redundancy of eloquence. Despite all that, Wallace spoke little, and consequently, Steven felt that he knew little of the other man. He’d let Steven see his bed hair, perhaps, but revealed little beyond that.

So when Steven begins receiving letters instead of calls from Wallace, he accepts them. Not because they make his heart ache, or his fingers clench with the pangs of homesickness, but because they’re Wallace. Wallace, a mystery. Wallace, his mystery, a ubiquitous part of his mind, his existence. Steven couldn't tuck him away in a corner of his thoughts even if he could. It arrives in late spring, when the peach blossoms had finished falling off the trees near Steven’s villa. Tucked between loud advertisements and coupons, Steven finds it- a modest envelope, with Wallace’s characteristic script on it.

_To: Steven Stone, former Champion, stone collector, Devon heir, Master trainer._

_From: Wallace._

Steven does not read the letter until several days later, after his body recovered from going up into caves that proved to be much more extensive than Hoenn’s. He is throwing out the junk mail when he catches a glimpse of the little envelope falling into the trash can. It takes him a little over five minutes to dig it out again and study the innocent white paper beneath his fingertips. Wallace wasn't one to joke around, but an actual handwritten letter sure sounded like a joke to Steven. As far as he was concerned, this wasn't the stone age, and both of them had cell phones. So, why?

Steven finds that when it comes to Wallace, that question often goes unanswered. Permanently. And yet, when he opens the letter to the faint scent of a sea breeze and the thin paper that is unique to Hoenn, unique to home- he realizes that none of it matters.


End file.
